Massive and un-restrained title change was necessary

tonight, one of my clerks told me that I worked too hard, and that I needed to relax, cool off, whatever. 3-1 was being ridiculously violated, Number One and I were stuck on the register, and the door alarm was running- for more than two and a half minutes. After it was all said and done and I managed to get through a bad rush, I told one of the clerks that when [they] heard the door alarm, they needed to, at the VERY least, look out and see if the people on register needed any help. I didn't snap. I didn't lose my cool, even. I was, however, firm. I could tell they were upset- at me, or themselves, I wasn't sure. so, several hours later, I apologized for (basically) snapping at them. that's when they told me that I worked too hard.

Yeah, I work hard. Yeah, I stress myself out with trying to get way too much shit done so that the store looks good for the next person. but the fact is that the job I have is a hard job. I don't mean hard as in only a select few people on this earth can do it- I mean hard by the old school definition- demanding. It's hard work like working on a farm can be hard work. Somedays I feel like I'm a cowboy who's been out wranglin' cattle all day.

Not really. but that's what I mean by hard. It's demanding. We (the employees) are expected to get an absurd amount of work done in a short amount of time. We are expected to give the best customer service to people, even when those people might make us want to drink boiling water. It's hard work. the work requires people to work hard, to move with purpose, to do things quickly. We're supposed to be faster, better, smarter, and more effective than any of our competition.

When it comes right down to it, I have to work as hard as I work. part of it is some internal drive of mine- I want to be needed and necessary. I want to be the best, most effective and most appreciated member of my team. Not only that, but if I know that I can do something, and I don't do it as well as I can, I'm basically failing myself. I don't want to be a failure to anyone- ESPECIALLY to myself.

But another part of it is that if I don't work as hard as I do, things could start going wrong.
We lose sales. Everyone loses pay. We lose customers. and unfortunately, I'm in a business where every one of those things matters quite a bit. If I don't work as hard as I do, I let everyone down (including myself) on several levels.

Maybe people without drive and ambition, people who simply want to take it easy and meander slowly from one task to the next without worrying about time constraints- maybe they don't belong here.

But a better question may be, "Where do they belong?"

I'd say they belong at Osco, which was a repository for underworking, slow-witted people without any drive to accomplish anything. But Osco doesn't exist anymore. Osco was bought out by a company that had big goals- that had a sense of purpose, profits, and it worked hard. So obviously, not working hard didn't work out too well for the Osco team. a good number of them are, in fact, still unemployed.

Really, what's the point of being here- of existing, without accomplishing something that will last? What's the point of sticking around in this world if you aren't going to do the best damn job you can at accomplishing SOMETHING? It leads me back to the whole existential hero thing, which I doubt many of you remember (or know about). Look it up on wikipedia.

As far as I am concerned, inaction is failure itself. If I don't act, who will? Obviously not those who wish to take it easy at work.

The fact is, that underachievers spend their lives doing nothing of import. they have very little impact on the world around them. Sure, their kids love them, maybe their parents and a select few other people out there, but almost no one remembers them when they're gone.

That's not what I want. Which is why I'm really currently wasting my life right now, anyway. I should be off writing a book, doing something that will put my name down in history permanently.

Or not. I could try the long climb up the corporate ladder. Lots of people remember you for that. But it's not what I want! I want to be remembered like I remember L.E. Modessitt, like I remember Jack McDevitt. In the meantime, however, I am going to do the best damn job I can at everything else.